Page 21 of The Chase

He nodded to the bag. “The money. I could have taken it, left you… it would have been the smart thing to not have shown me.”

She tilted her head. “I trust you,” she said simply, and in her heart she knew it was true. He was an ex-con, former Prez of an outlaw biker club. She should have been careful, should have kept her cards close to her chest. But she didn’t. She knew there was more to him. She knew she could trust him. He was all of those things but he was also a man with chocolate brown eyes and thick brown hair and warm, golden skin. A man who had protected her and saved her, who smiled at her and had fucked her. Yes, roughly, furiously, selfishly at first. But it had been what she had wanted, what she had craved. He provided her with everything she needed. Everything she wanted. The thought struck her like a baseball bat to the head. In 24 hours he had done more for her than her former fiancé ever had. She was just beginning to peel off his tough biker layer to find a genuine, caring, rough around the edges, but intriguing man underneath. She trusted him, with her body, with more than her body, she realized. The money, yes, but more, much more. She stared at the stacks of money in the bag, not seeing them, staring through them.

“Throw it in the back, we’ll be out of here in a second,” Colt said, after fixing her with a penetrating stare.

“Okay.” She nodded, letting go of the mild panic that had built up inside of her. She blew out another breath, blowing away the fear.

Colt already had some sort of tool that looked like a thin chisel in his hand, that he had shoved down the gap where the window was, and was wriggling it around. The lock clicked, and Colt pulled the driver’s door open.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, eyes roving over the dashboard.

He pulled himself up into the driver’s seat and turned to her. “Get in, Kitten.”

She bit her lips. “Can you leave him a note, saying sorry, we’ll take good care of it and aim to return it-”

Colt looked at her with a deadpan expression. She thought he was going to say no. Then he mellowed. “Sure, Kitten.”

She had an idea. “Can we give him some cash, as compensation, or like a deposit maybe…”

He puffed out a breath. “You are fucking cute, you know that, don’t you?” He smiled at her.

She blushed a little.

They revved out of the garage in the VW leaving Millhaus behind with a resigned, unsurprised, “ahh fuck”, a scrunched up dust sheet and a neat little stack of crisp notes.

* * *

Hours later,they stopped at a store. He loped off to buy cigarettes from the gas station nearby, then crossed the parking lot, head on swivel the whole time, but there was no MC. She bought useful things, towels, bedding, and clothes. Burner phones for them both. She bought frivolous stuff, too. She wanted to put a smile on Colt’s face. Fairy lights, scatter cushions, scented candles. A new life. A whole new, cheaper, more minimal life for herself. And for that moody, difficult ex-con that she’d thrown herself in with. A few days ago, she’d been a corporate lawyer, Brown University alumni, she had a fiancé, she was a trendy, young professional, decked out in designer clothes with hundreds of followers on social media. But now she felt lighter, freer, more invigorated than she had ever felt. She bought underwear, which brought color to her face. Yes, she was going on the run from an MC in a van with a felon, and she was doing so with sexy underwear. She didn’t do things by halves, she was an all or nothing girl after all.

They were on the road again. It was dusk, Colt was behind the wheel, and April sat next to him in the passenger’s seat. He missed the bike and the instant hit of bravado it gave him, but this was the better option for them both. More practical, more comfortable. He tutted to himself, he sounded like an old man. What happened to the dirty biker that he was? April had made him shower at a truck stop, for a start. They both smelled of the shower gel she’d bought. It was some sort of floral scent. Colt had lathered it all over his body, making a welcome change from prison soap. He’d taken a second to imagine her hands lathering it over her own body. He’d gotten hard, despite the shower being a mere dribble of cold water, his hand had slid over his cock, gripped it hard, using extra shower gel to slide up and down his shaft.

He was thinking about April, and what she’d said to him when they had stopped. When she had stood up in front of him, asked to go on the run with him, then asked him for sex. Yes, her outfit was creased, her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged, but she still looked smoking hot. Like he’d bedded her long and hard the night before. If only, he thought with a wryness. And when he’d challenged her, called her out on turning up her nose at him, she’d apologized. He was impressed she hadn’t backed down there, she’d been honest, taken it on the chin. She’d just stood there anyway and asked for what she had wanted. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

But he’d tried to talk himself down, talk her out of this hare-brained idea of hers; running together, spending more time together, repeating what they had done… together. As he uttered the words about how he was a bad guy, trouble, he wished it wasn’t true. He had felt a deep regret that turned his voice gruff. He hoped it sounded like tough nonchalance. The opposite was the case, he had never felt so invested in what she had been about to say next.

And the way she had looked at him, biting her lips, desire pooling in her eyes. He had a sudden urge to feel those teeth biting the base of his hard cock. He looked down, the surge of desire engulfing him. He almost groaned out loud. What was fucking wrong with him? He was like a horny teenager again. He knew his body looked good, he’d always taken care of it as soon as he’d been able to gain a bit of muscle after he had started working out at the clubhouse, but in prison he’d lost himself in mindless repetitions of deadlifts with dumbbells, squats… he was in the best shape of his life. It fucking figured though, if college boy had been her fiancé, she probably hadn’t had much to look at in the body department underneath his shirt and suit. He liked that she liked him physically. She’d probably never been with a man like him. She probably hadn’t ever even dreamed she’d do what they did last night. She’d probably never done some of the things he wanted to do to her. That sent his mind whirling away, and he let himself, for a split second, imagine her, naked, on top of him, grinding against him, moaning for more. He imagined his hard cock plunging deep into her, her pussy swallowing him wetly as they both watched. Right there in that sorry excuse for a shower, he gripped his rock hard cock. He pumped once, clenching his teeth. He wanted to wait, but he knew he needed to build up his stamina for her, being in prison for five years, he knew he would not be able to last long enough to satisfy her. He’d blown his load too early already, he didn’t want to repeat that.

If they had had more time, he would have finished himself off thinking of her in the shower. But they didn’t. He changed into the clothes she’d got for him. A cheap white T-shirt and some blue jeans. They felt very much not like his own. And some sort of douchey leather shoes. She’d called them boat shoes. They were college boy shoes. He hated them on principle but found they were actually pretty comfortable. She’d got the right size for him. He’d slipped on the black boxer briefs and wondered if she’d imagined him in them when she was buying them. What size he would take. What he would look like in them. What he would look like taking them off. He hoped she had had some thoughts like that.

He was conflicted. Torn inside. It was April, the angel he watched from the shadows. The pure young thing he was sent to protect. He was dirt to her, not worthy of her time. Let alone... a lover. As he thought about that, goosebumps rose on his arms. Being with her, being balls deep inside of her, feeling her warmth clenching around him as he drove himself home inside her... it was too much. Had it really happened just yesterday? He was getting lost in his own head, something that had crept up on him in prison. The intrusive thoughts he couldn’t seem to block out, that he couldn’t turn down. Whirring away in his mind on repeat.

He had dreamed of being with April, of course, as a teenager. A complete self indulgent fantasy to occupy his mind and his hand during lonely nights. He had never thought it could actually become a reality.

But she had come back to him, not as a pure thing existing in a higher universe. But as a woman, flesh and blood, soft, strokable hair and wanton sighs. Her own power coursing through her veins. That had swept over him with a long lashed gaze of female desire. And possibility had been born. In his mind, in his heart. In his body. She was no longer an angel. And he was no longer dirt. She was a woman, and he was a man.

He’d taken a risk, played his cards, played his soul on the line by offering her himself. He’d done it under a veneer of bravado, cocky confidence and cavalier brashness.

But she’d said yes. She had wanted him. He knew it was only skin deep. She wanted what he was, a hunk of muscle, who would take her roughly and touch her like no one else before. She didn’t want him for who he was, but he’d take it. He wanted to see her on her back, to hear her scream and gasp as he plunged into her, taking her. The wild, wild thoughts filled his head as he drove on.

* * *

She had noddedoff almost as soon as they’d started moving. He had planned to drive for hours into the night, but he was bone tired. He blinked furiously and put the window down to let the dusk air in. It was no good, they had to stop. He’d wanted to talk to her about where they should lay low for the night. But he didn’t have the heart to wake her. They were over the state line, they were in a new set of wheels, they had loads of stuff to help them run, to help them survive. He’d been moody about it earlier, her wanting to shop for stuff, but he saw the wiseness in April’s plan here. Yes, they could now drive for days. They could blend into the crowd, disappear. It was better than just trail blazing away into the sunset only to run out of gas a few hours later.

Colt’s eyelids were drooping. He was struggling to keep his head upright. His hands on the wheel even. Everything wanted to sag to the floor. He needed to sleep. He pulled off the highway, checking his mirrors obsessively. No MC came roaring into view, the roads were quiet. The night was peaceful.

They were at the coast, the Pacific ocean highway hugging the dramatic cliff line. After five years in prison, he couldn’t wait to see it in the daylight. In the growing dusk it was already beautiful. He pulled off the highway, onto a smaller road, closer to the ocean. Stopping the van, he lay his head back against the headrest. Finally, a moment of peace.

He climbed out the van, his legs jelly, his back beyond stiff. Time to see what April had made of the back of the van, he thought wryly. He heard the ocean waves, the faint whisper of the wind, and that was blissfully all he could hear. He walked back to the van, stretching his back and neck, feeling a thousand years old. He opened the doors, and blew out a low whistle.

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